


Scarlet

by skysedge



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/F, Guilty Pleasures, Masturbation, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/pseuds/skysedge
Summary: Remembering is difficult, how ithurts, but there’s a thrill in the pain.Katalina isn’t here.
Relationships: Katalina Alize/Vira Lilie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Season of Kink, femslashficlets: tarot prompt challenge





	Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Vira in the red evening gown is hot and I'm gay.~~

The ball had been mediocre at best. Closing the door of her bedroom, the Lord Commander of Albion Citadel can finally let her stately smile fall. Her room is dark, too big, too empty. Moonlight streams through the open curtains, illuminating the chequered tiles under her feet. 

She remembers another night, another moon like this. A better night. Vira’s lips curve into a distant smile as images flood her mind. 

Katalina, in a blue dress that swirled like water. Katalina, her hair loose and soft. Katalina, her lips painted pink, and _oh_ how Vira had longed to touch them. 

Remembering is difficult, how it _hurts_ , but there’s a thrill in the pain. Katalina isn’t here. They don’t attend balls together anymore. That means that Vira can safely step further into the moonlight and close her eyes, wrap herself in memories that quicken her heart and shorten her breath. 

_That dress is amazing._

She recalls Katalina's voice and her fingers slide down the scarlet silk of her dress. She burns as she remembers the words she longs to hear once more, the sweet smile that had accompanied them. 

_You look beautiful, Vira._

_It’s nothing compared to you._

_Huh? I don’t suit this sort of thing at all._

_That’s not true. You suit everything._

Katalina would suit the moonlight, her pale skin would glow beneath it, ethereal. Vira slips her hand into the folds of her dress and presses between her thighs, shivering as she pictures Katalina's pure blue eyes, the curve of her waist, the slope of her stomach. Her skin would be soft and warm. Even imagined, Katalina is so beautiful that Vira aches for her, her body and soul burning both. 

One of these fires will never be satiated. She knows. She isn’t smiling as she moves to her bed and lays herself upon the sheets. She hitches her skirt up to her waist with one hand and lowers the other back to where she craves with a gasp. She’s wet, soaked through her underwear from this alone, and she savours the slick rub of silk against her heated, sensitive skin. 

She needs, more memories, more Katalina, _more_. 

_I do wish they would stop staring at us so._

_Then shall we dance?_

_E-eh? You and I?_

_Of course. Staring doesn’t get you anywhere. You have to ask for what you want._

_I... do?_

_Let’s teach them. Here, take my hand._

Vira had taken Katalina’s left hand in her right, her fingers trembling. Those same fingers now push ruined fabric aside and stroke delicately along her slit. She presses her cheek into the sheets with a soft whine, pulling at her hair with her other hand. 

She’s both delighted and horrified with herself, with how good it feels to give in. She spreads her legs in a wanton sprawl, bending one knee to press a red stiletto heel into the sheets, and slowly presses a finger against her clitoris. Rubbing herself in small circles that cause her thighs to tremble, she thinks back, grasps at the memories, makes them real. 

Katalina had smelled of lilies and spring as she had drawn Vira close and led her into the dance. She had barely remembered the steps, too overwhelmed with the warm curves of Katalina’s body brushing against her own, the strong fingers holding hers tightly. It was only a dance, public, but it was the most intimate few minutes of Vira’s life. Her heart had beat so fast she had blushed from her ears to her chest and Katalina had seen, had... 

Known? No. It changes nothing. 

Breathing in a scent from years ago, Vira releases her hair and lowers her left hand, brushes against her right as it moves. It’s a fleeting touch she can only grant herself, but she imagines Katalina’s fingers and pretends it’s these that slip lower and press against her entrance. She’s ready for them, eager, and the slide inwards makes her body sing. She raises her hips, braced against the bed by her heel, and pushes those fingers deeper, pulls them back, sinks down onto them once more. 

Beginning to gasp and give high, breathy moans, she thinks of the dance and fucks herself harder. 

_Ahh, I’m worn out._

_You... need to... stop?_

_You’re out of breath as well._

She is now, too. The dance had finished but the night had not and so neither does she, rocking her hips against each thrust of her fingers. The soft wet sounds of her ministrations are loud in the emptiness of her room, a lewd contrast to the proper place this is supposed to be, the virtuous woman she must pretend she is. The secret shame of it thrills her and heat coils desperately in her core. She arches, a low moan spilling from her wine-red lips, and curls her fingers just right, igniting nerves that send sparks shooting through her body. 

She’s close, so close, but she remembers more, remembers walking the halls to her room, remembers Katalina holding her close in the moonlight and murmuring into her hair. 

_Thank you for tonight. I don’t know what I’d do without you._

With the voice in her ear, it’s easy to imagine it’s Katalina’s hands that push and stroke and give until the motions lose rhythm, become desperate. Her eyes slam open and with a single quavering cry she comes hard, whole body succumbing to violent tremors, so tight around her fingers it hurts. 

She lays panting in the aftermath, the only sound in the silence, and all too quickly the warmth that has flooded her body begins to dissipate. She pictures herself, red-cheeked and sheened in sweat, her elegant clothes rumpled and dirtied. The Lord Commander, reduced to this. 

The pleasure drains away and she’s tired, so _tired._ She gives her hands a cursory wipe on her dress and rolls onto her side, her eyes shut. 

The ball had been mediocre. Without Katalina, they always are. 

She still isn’t smiling as she begins to fall asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ily Vira, sorry this is so miserable lol.
> 
> Prompts 'The Devil - The pain and delight of giving in to temptation' and 'masturbation'.


End file.
